Untitled
by Fairsoul
Summary: Just a random Hogwarts story, for now...


The girl read quietly on the train as it first pulled up into the station, her features pulled taut as she read the book in her hands. Whether fiction or nonfiction, its function was explanatory, but past that she could not make up her mind about it. The book was brand new, and it smelled of processed forest materials. The scent of it's pages made her shudder with pleasure, as any book's did. She was a certified addict of course, when it came to reading, and her voracious consumption of novels, literature, and history was unfailing. She clutched the copy of Hogwarts: A History as she read it, a hawk devouring it's prey. Prey which in this case wasn't giving much opposition. The girl paused her intellectual explorations only for temporary purposes, though frequently, whether to run her fingers over the spine, gaze at her neighbor's eerie costume attire, or gaze at the train that had just pulled into platform ten. She smiled at it, walking towards it and walked towards the conductor. Perhaps it wasn't fiction after all... How odd that this book spoke so strangely of her school-to-be, or that in the letter, something along the lines of dragon's hide gloves had been sought as supplementary supplies for academic purposes. Smiling, she smoothed out her beige, thick linen skirt, pleated at the center, and nodded pleasantly to the conductor, who was talking to a confused-looking boy with a cerulean shirt with the word Hexadecimal blazoned on it, sunglasses, and- she was stunned to see on such a chilly day- shorts. Surely he was cold? She should offer him a coat, shouldn't she?  
  
"Speak, miss, or move yourself aside." The conductor said iritably, turning a dark eye to glower at the girl from behind a thick mass of facial hair.  
  
She decided politeness would be the wisest way to go. "Um, yes sir... I'm looking for a platform 9 and 3/4. Is this it?"  
  
"Platform 9 and 3/4?! Get out, you bloody juvenile, don't you think I get that enough in one day?" He asked, suddenly fierce with agitation. "First all of them funny dark ones, and now you too? I thought that at least one runt might not find it necessary to harass old Rox for one day. God, just go with your little friends, won't you? Leave a poor soul rest, at least." As he spoke, he gestured towards a large group of people in the far end, nearer to platform nine than ten, actually. Taking his advice, she drew closer to the large group and was surprised at what she heard and saw.  
  
"Her name is Vurrneez" The man that was governing them said. "She's an ex-"  
  
"I heard she's nice in the sack from that Fitzgerald character." One of them interrupted. The three other boys laughed, but one of them eyed the young man beside them uncertainly.  
  
"Should you have said that in front of Professor Donovan, Ram?" One of them asked uncertainly. He had long fair hair, and had an eagle's look about him and a firm way of speaking even in his insecurity.  
  
Glancing at his friend, the one who had been addressed as Ram scowled. His hair was black, longer than normal, and combed back. It had a clean, soft, wet look to it, and it sloped down the back of his neck. After thinking for a moment, he spoke. "All the better, now Professor Donovan can give Fitzgerald the detention, can't he? I didn't say it, I'm just the messenger."  
  
Professor Donovan frowned. "Professor Crosse would give you a detention."  
  
"Headmistress Phileus would laugh it off, sir." Ram replied.  
  
"Hogwarts help Headmaster Adiron when he declared Headmistress Phileus his successor." Professor Donovan replied. "You know I don't approve of your diction." The man said, his voice a sharp snap. Deep blue eyes contrasted with fair blonde hair and even paler skin on his features. Speaking of which, I suggest you don't ask her now. She's watching us."  
  
The girl froze as she saw all of them turn suddenly to watch her. All of them were dressed in long, black robes, with odd hairstyles and amused, smirking features. She smoothed her pleated skirt with uncertainty, not daring to breathe, much less say anything. She was glad of her hair, which was plain, dark brown frequently labelled black, and which at the moment was tied into a very prim bun. Her hazel eyes flickered over the boys, and she pushed her square rimless glasses up the bridge of her nose. Finally, the fair-haired boy who had warned Ram earlier spoke.  
  
"Ahem. Hello, Miss Courier. I'm Gregory Wessex, sixth year Gryffindor of Hogwarts school, prefect. This is Bertram James, sixth year Ravenclaw, Merlin Lloyd, also a Gryffindor, and Albinar Cornell, seventh year Ravenclaw. The old codger here is Professor Donovan."  
  
It was perfectly ridiculous of course. For one, they'd all been talking about her, she knew. For another, the last bit was blasphemy. It was easy for a blind woman to see how young and attractive Professor Donovan was, although he struck her as a sort for sequester who would flush at the idea of student admirers.  
  
"Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?" She asked quietly, uncertain. "I believe I'd rather be in Slytherin, actually." She murmured quietly, twisting a silver ring on her finger. "It strikes me as a sort of amusing idea, that it should be so backwards as that I might be in Slytherin... I'm anything but cunning. Oh, I'm sorry. Thank you, Mr. Wessex, but my name is Bernice. Bernice Courier, I'm hardly a miss."  
  
She could almost hear the sarcasm from Bertram's unspoken words as she caught his gaze. /Pretty thing, she is... is she sure she isn't a miss? She couldn't be a mister.../ Watching the laughing brown eyes, she gave him her best impression of boredom. "Staring isn't polite." She told him.  
  
The young mister Cornell spoke for the stricken man. "Ram is rarely polite. He says it takes too much time."  
  
"Nothing takes much time if you have an intelligence quotient over three." She snapped in reply, her gaze shifting nervously towards the professor, who gazed at her with curiosity. Realizing the opportunity to seize the moment, she nodded towards him. "Um, sir, I'm afraid this is all terribly mistakened... I don't know where to get any of this, or even where the platform is. Please, help me with this?"  
  
The man blinked. "You have none of this?"  
  
The girl nodded. Seeing the Professor's unease, Bertram scowled and took the paper. With amusement, he noted that the supplies here noted were intended for students of all years but seventh. "What's the difference between a wand and a stick?" He asked, pressing the papers into Gregory's hands.  
  
"One is alive?"  
  
"One is cored with a magickal substance. What is the difference between monkshood, asphodel, and wolfsbane."  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"There is no difference. Who is the greatest rebel of the wizarding world?"  
  
"Jackson Grant?"  
  
"Janus Ferguson. What is the difference between a pencil and pen?"  
  
"One is filled with lead, the other, ink."  
  
"Correct. What is the difference bettween chips and french fries?"  
  
"...None, I think."  
  
"Correct. Who is the biggest ass of all Europe right now."  
  
"The French, I suppose."  
  
"Then you are a muggle, the greatest form of ignorance in the universe." Bertram snapped. "Get the bloody hell away from my school."  
  
"I didn't ask to come here!" Bernice cried in reply, annoyed and aggreived.  
  
"No, you didn't. Professor Phileus asked you here because you belong here. At Hogwarts." Professor Donovan said quietly. "Whether or not she's unconventional at times."  
  
A tall, thin boy with gaunt expressions, greying fair hair and dark gray eyes nodded with a grin towards her. "They don't call her Firecracker Phileus for nothing. Another day, a new explosion of salamander liver, that's what I say. Makes it more fun."  
  
"Lloyd, right? I believe it means grey..." She murmured.  
  
"Yes, it does, my dear lady... Speaking of which, they won't be serving tea on the train, you know. And we're going to miss it if we all don't hurry."  
  
Turning to the last boy, whom she assumed was Albinar, a tall boy with dark red curls and pale blue eyes, she scowled. "Is everyone but Bertram polite?"  
  
Albinar grinned. "I certainly hope I'm not."  
  
She wasn't quite sure what was happening, but felt a hard shove, and herself getting shoved into the wall.  
  
She wasn't quite sure what happened after that either.  
  
She blacked out.  
  
...  
  
Bertram stroked the dark hair of the girl laying in their car unconsciously, causing those around him to hide grins. He didn't really think of much-- after having had Donovan levitate the girl here- he had to sit with her, he thought disgustedly- it honestly wasn't that bad. Her hair was soft, like cloud-cotton, a halo of ebony, like the wood, dark, impossibly dark brown. He wondered, since she knew that Lloyd meant grey, that she might someday discover their secret. If she did, would she-  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a screech like the careening of a hawk. "Take your bloody hands away from- ...where in Hel are we?"  
  
"Hogwart's Express, Bernice." Gregory offered, smirking just slightly at the breaking image of tranquility.  
  
"Muggle girl." Ram grunted, annoyed.  
  
"I am not a muggle! ...Whatever that is." She mumbled. "Why were you touching me?"  
  
"I was trying to wake you up."  
  
"By carressing me?"  
  
"By nudging you."  
  
"I don't know if I would call that nudging."  
  
"Would you to shut up?" Donovan asked, his face contorted in irritation from being roused from his sleep.  
  
Bernice appeared to be mortified. "He just told me to shut up!"  
  
"Indeed he did." Merlin said, amused. "Our professor is, after all, Ram's uncle. You would expect it to be so."  
  
Indeed, the man did have a slight resemblance, but not much. At a thought, she gazed at them all and found what she saw remarkable. "Are you ALL related?" She asked.  
  
Albinar's lips set into a frown. "The mark of a pureblood... we're actually not PURELY related... Ram and I share a grandmother, who was the sister of Merlin's aunt who is Gregory's mother. Donovan isn't related to anyone but Ram, actually."  
  
"If you're such a vastly interbreeding species, why aren't there any females of your clan about?" She questioned again.  
  
Professor Donovan made a face, and Bernice grinned. It was clear that the Professor was worried for his mental well being from being in the company of female admirers. Shielding her thoughts, she turned her mind to her rival, apathy painted on her features.  
  
Ram gazed at her with pure loathing. The pretty eyes, the pathetic skirt, the... was that a touch? His eyes flickered downwards, and he caught a hand as it trailed his jaw. He practically choked on his surprise and fury.  
  
Bernice smiled at him. "Just returning a favor." Then, picking up her skirts in a most ladylike manney, she swept out of the car.  
  
She was just late enough to catch Merlin's laughter.  
  
...  
  
Bernice stopped in a car with a Harriet James, a pleasantly attractive girl with freckles, straight red hair, and an air of innocence, but with a firm gaze of intelligence as well. The girl smiled at her, and she returned the favor generously, although with an air of uncertainty. She explained herself as a young professor of arithmancy. Moving nearer to her, she took over the seat beside her. After a while, they submerged into a tete-a-tete, and Harriet explained to her all of the dynamics of the wizarding world.  
  
"First off." She said. "There are two classes of actual human humans. Those that can use magic-- usually witches and wizards, but occasionally a veela or a sorcerer or something-- and those that can't, muggles. There are also squibs, who can't use magic but no of its existance from being born from a wizarding family. You've read up on Hogwarts, so you're familiar with the wizarding sport, quidditch, correct? That's the only other thing you really need to know."  
  
"Yes, I know."  
  
"Good. Everything else you'll learn this year at Hogwarts. You can pick up supplies at Hogsmeade, the nearest village to Hogwarts. Since you'll be a sixth year, there shouldn't be a problem with that. You'll do three times as much work as anyone else, but your professors are prepared to use base charms to help you. Base charms tap directly into your mind and take your thoughts, copy them, and put them on paper in the forms of notes, essays, and other things. These will help you a great deal, since the copies will increase your memory and it will take no time at all to write an essay. You'll use a timeturner to be in multiple courses at once, and you'll take all tests WITHOUT the base charms. Headmistress Phileus is sure to tell you more... you'll like her. Everyone likes her except Professor Esker James and Professor Visnu Durgas, who loathe her. Also, take your mind to stay away from Solon Malfoy and Cetus Black. Those two are trouble."  
  
"Are you related to Professor James."  
  
"After a fashion. We're married. That's another thing- it's unpleasant to pry."  
  
"I'm unpleasant. I don't know how you live with a male though."  
  
"I don't know how I do it either." Harriet replied, and Bernice laughed at her sincerity.  
  
"You can't mean that!" The girl said.  
  
"You said it yourself." The teacher retorted. "And I most certainly do."  
  
At that moment, a witch came into the car pushing a cart filled with odd sorts of food. Harriet made a face at them, but lent Bernice money for a few pumpkin pasties, in exchange for the pounds Bernice was carrying. Bernice sank her mouth into the pasty in silence and stared blankly out the window with uncertainty. She was still confused, but a bit of it was starting to sink in. After a while, she had successfully done her first bit of witchcraft; all of the cakes were gone. She sighed, stuffed and content. She had almost fell asleep, when-  
  
"Hello Ms. Courier. We've arrived." The serving witch had reappeared, and beside her was a cruel looking man with curved fingers like claws and beady, lightless eyes. The man spoke again. "I am Avernus Tantall, the gamekeeper of Hogwarts. Come along, Miss." His voice was a snarl, his dark hair plastered flat against his oddly shaped skull.  
  
"Ah, I forgot Tantall hates Headmistress Phileus too."  
  
At the lack of anything better to respond, Bernice shrugged. "Fun." 


End file.
